Scheherazade
by fyren galan
Summary: Voldemort didn’t believe that a bound Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he planned to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. SLASH. Retelling of 1001 Nights.
1. Prologue and The Two Brothers

**Title: **Scheherazade

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **Harry/Lord Voldemort, possibly others

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Slash, language, violence, possible character death (not main pairing), Grey and possibly Dark!Harry. Cho, Ron, and Dumbledore bashing.

**Summary: **Voldemort didn't believe that a bound and unconscious Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he plans to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. A Harry Potter retelling of One Thousand and One Nights.

**Author's Notes: **This is my first Harry/Voldemort fic, so forgive me if it's less than stellar. This will definitely NOT be one thousand and one chapters, but it will be rather long. Long for me: AKA, the queen of one shots. :] Enjoy, and please tell me what I can improve!

Scheherazade 

_The Two "Brothers"- Part One _

Lord Voldemort walked slowly to the dungeons. He still didn't believe the wild story his Inner Circle had told him. He snorted. Like a bound and unconscious Harry Potter would really appear in the middle of one of their meetings. Already planning to torture Lucius for telling falsehoods, he absentmindedly flicked his wand. The ornate door swung open silently, and Voldemort breathed in sharply.

Green eyes burned in the gloom.

"Hello, Tom."

oOo

He swept quickly into the room, the door shutting behind him with an ominous clang. Torches flared to life, removing any doubt that there was indeed a half-naked Harry Potter chained to his wall.

"C-crucio," Voldemort said, mentally cursing himself for letting his voice audibly shake.

The boy bore the curse admirably, and endured it without making a sound. Voldemort abruptly ended the spell, and jolted in surprise.

Potter was laughing. He had thought the tremors had been an aftereffect of the spell, but no, Potter was merely insane.

He lifted up his head and smiled. "You never change, do you, Tom?"

Voldemort sneered, his composure back in place. "Sorry, Potter, but there will be no witty banter this time. I won't be giving a monologue, either. You would have too much time to think of insipid escape plans that might actually work, with your luck."

Potter suddenly looked weary. "But I so enjoy our little taunts. Ah, well. I have no intention of dramatically fleeing this time. I do wonder, though, if you have enough humanity left to grant a dying man's wish."

Voldemort sighed. "What small triviality do you require now, Potter? A teddy to snuggle as you die? A piece of parchment to write a tearful goodbye to your loved ones?"

Potter chuckled. "All I want to do is tell you a story, Tom."

He wanted to say no, but those emerald eyes were staring at him so earnestly.

He sighed again, Conjured up a chair, and endured another smile from the teen. "Hurry up, Potter. I haven't got all night."

Potter grinned. "Y'know, I could use a chair too."

"Crucio. Get on with it, Potter."

oOo

Once upon a time- Ow. What? I'm sorry. Your little curses start to hurt after a while. And a chair really would be nice. Ow. Fine. I'll tell you the damn story. _Anyway_, as I was saying, once upon a time there were two men.

This is not a very exciting beginning, you say. But these men were anything but ordinary. The world thought they were like brothers; magically powerful, beautiful best friends. But behind closed doors and in small alcoves, they were lovers.

One of the men exuded charm and made everyone around him fall in love with him and his ideals. His name was Gellert, although he was later infamously known by his surname.

The other was handsome, clever, and polite, but he paled in comparison to Gellert. Everyone did. And yet, Gellert saw fit to take him as a lover and make him his right hand man. The follower's name was Albus.

They were young and in love, so naturally they thought they could rule the world. Gellert had great plans for their future, him in the elaborate throne, and Albus always there at his side. Albus wholeheartedly agreed with whatever Gellert would say. He was, after all, a genius.

So when Gellert expressed his concern for the Muggleborns that were slowly diluting the wizarding community's magical essence, Albus enthusiastically accepted his idea to slowly limit the number of Muggle-borns accepted into wizarding society. Albus secretly found Mudbloods distasteful. They were always looking around with too much awe and asking stupid questions loudly.

Gellert and Albus plotted for years to accomplish this goal. In this time, they grew closer than ever. "I love you's" were finally hanging in the air and clinging to bare skin. And then, their dream romance fell to pieces.

The bards all cry that it was Gellert's fault. He seduced Albus with the Dark, and in the end, fell to its allures. But then again, the bards don't tell this version. In their adaptation, Albus fled at the first sign of Darkness. It's too bad that nobody ever hears the true stories. They're so much more entertaining.

Actually, it was Albus who first introduced Dark spells to Gellert. Gellert was frustrated with his lack of success in convincing people to reduce the Muggleborn population to ten percent of the overall wizarding population. And then, Albus brought the Imperius Curse to his attention. With it, he could persuade hundreds to his side. Gellert was at first hesitant to use it, but Albus convinced him it was for the greater good.

That phrase sounds familiar, doesn't it, Tom? I wonder who uses it frequently nowadays.

The anti-Muggleborn faction was growing larger each day, and yet Gellert still felt guilty about taking away people's freedom of choice. Tension began to grow between Albus and Gellert, but it probably would've merely simmered under the surface if not for that fateful day.

Gellert was working in his Potions Lab on a variation of the Imperius Curse that would hopefully show people the correctness of his position, but let them still choose for themselves, when feminine screams broke out.

He dropped the moonstone he was crushing, and ran immediately to the dungeon. Skidding to a halt, he gasped in horror.

Standing there with a manic grin on his face and holding a Crucio on a small girl, was his lover Albus.

oOo

Voldemort leaned forward, holding his breath. What happened next? He had never heard this version before! Potter opened his mouth, and he anticipated. And then-

"I'm tired, Tom. Can we continue this tomorrow?" Potter asked.

Voldemort's jaw dropped. Continue? Tomorrow? "What the hell do you think this, Potter? A bloody inn? You're not my guest, you're my prisoner! So continue with the damn story. I don't care if you're tired."

Potter glared, and Voldemort unconsciously shrank into the chair. "Well, _Tom_. I wouldn't be so tired if a certain _someone_ hadn't Crucioed so many times! And the way I see it, I'm the only one who can tell the story, and therefore, I can take as much fucking time as I want to tell it! And I'm not telling you the rest until you let me sleep in a comfortable bed and eat unpoisoned, tasty food!"

They had a nasty staring contest, and somehow Potter won (which should've been impossible, because snakes don't have eyelids). Grudgingly, Voldemort flicked his wand and Levitated the boy out of the dungeon into a guest room. He dumped him on the bed, and said pettily, "You will finish this story tomorrow, Potter. And then I will kill you. Slumber well, for it will be your last time before your eternal rest."

Potter blinked sleepily. "That's nice, Tom. Good night."

Voldemort huffed, and slammed the door behind him. Damn Potter for being such a good storyteller! He had really intended to kill the teen in the dungeon.

But hearing the true story of Grindelwald and Dumbledore was far too tempting.

Voldemort walked slowly back to where his Inner Circle was no doubt cowering in fear. It was too bad they didn't make Time Turners into the future.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: As this is the retelling of Scheherazade, I will need suggestions for stories for Harry to tell. Feel free to give me your favorite fairy tale, myth, or fable in a review, and I will try to incorporate it! Be warned, the stories will all be in multiple parts, because otherwise Tom will kill him. Isn't he cute? :]

Please review; I'd love to hear what you think!


	2. The Two Brothers and The Snow Queen

**Title: **Scheherazade

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **Harry/Lord Voldemort, possibly others

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Slash, language, violence, possible character death (not main pairing), Grey and possibly Dark!Harry. Cho, Ron, and Dumbledore bashing.

**Summary: **Voldemort didn't believe that a bound and unconscious Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he plans to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. A Harry Potter retelling of One Thousand and One Nights.

**Author's Notes: ** A thank you to all that reviewed! Here is Chapter Two, with more snarky Voldemort and a Snape cameo! Also a bit of Lucius, but it's not his time to shine yet. :]

Scheherazade 

_The Two "Brothers"- Part Two and _

_The Snow Queen- Part One _

Harry woke up slowly. He felt surprisingly safe and content, considering where he was. The bed was more comfortable than his own, and the company (or lack of) was infinitely more pleasant, he thought darkly. Face set firmly in a scowl, he groped blindly for his glasses.

"Still playing the fool, Potter?" an immensely familiar voice sneered from the doorway. Harry immediately dropped any pretense of sleepiness and pointed his wand unwaveringly at Snape.

The blurry outline of Harry's favorite Potions Master sighed, and swept into the room. "Put that toy away, Potter, before you hurt yourself. Honestly, I don't know how the Dark Lord puts up with you."

Harry grinned. "He doesn't. I show up, we both shout death threats, throw approximately two curses, and then he runs away. Repeat ad nauseum."

There was a muffled choking sound, which Harry suspected was Snape trying to smother a laugh. A vial was shoved into his hand and uncorked, and Snape, still making strange noises, instructed him to drink it.

Harry sniffed it, and asked curiously, "Why is peppermint used in most potions?"

Snape replied, "Most people prefer the taste of herbs to that of crocodile hearts."

Harry grimaced, and downed the potion. Immediately his head began to swim, and he tightly shut his eyes. "What _was_ that?" he moaned.

Snape chuckled. "One would think you would ask that before drinking an unknown potion."

Harry put his head in between his knees. "I reckoned that Voldemort would kill you for killing me before he could."

Snape snorted. "So true, and yet, so tragic. No, brat, it's not poison; it's a vision-correcting potion. Apparently, my Lord got tired of watching you clean your glasses during your little story time last night. He asked me to rectify that and any other physical defections you might have that would prevent you from finishing your tale tonight. So out with it, Potter."

Harry warily cracked open an eyelid. The world burst in on him in such sharp clarity and vivid color that he gasped. He heard Snape draw breath to make no doubt another caustic remark, and he shot out of bed. Harry tightly hugged the shocked Potions Master, and mumbled a constant stream of 'thank you's'. Snape froze for a brief moment, and then pushed Harry away from him.

"I wish I had given you poison," he muttered, turning away from the blinding smile he was receiving. "Stop stalling in that Gryffindorish manner, Potter. Do you have any other injuries to be taken care of?"

Silence followed, and Snape twisted around to chastise the brat. He stopped. Potter had shucked his pants, but that was not what held his attention. There were perfectly symmetrical criss-crossed welts descending from Potter's upper thighs to his calves. Snape sucked in air sharply, and looked up. Potter gazed stonily at him, his arms crossed defensively on his chest.

He started to ask, "What-"

Potter cut him off. "I never asked when you came back wounded from Death Eater meetings; the least you could do is give me the same courtesy."

Stunned, Snape handed Potter a wound-cleaning potion and a soothing paste. "The Dark Lord didn't-"

"No." Potter's stare dared him to ask another question, but Snape wasn't stupid. He hadn't survived for almost twenty years as a spy for the Dark Lord for nothing. He nodded curtly, and went out of the room.

oOo

"Well?" Voldemort asked impatiently. "How is he?"

"Grateful for the vision potion, my Lord," Snape murmured.

"And were there any other injuries?"

Snape hesitated. "There were… deep lacerations all down his legs; I know not what they were for."

Voldemort's eyes widened imperceptibly. "Interesting. Severus, if the bumbling fool asks you about Potter's disappearance, tell him I knew nothing of it. And that I am suitably enraged that someone else managed to kidnap him when I could not."

Severus bowed, and said, "It shall be done, my Lord."

Voldemort scarcely noticed as the spy backed out of the room. What had the boy been doing before magically appearing in Malfoy Manor?

oOo

Voldemort stared sulkily at the grandfather clock in the Malfoys' sitting room. "Tell me, Lady Malfoy. What time constitutes as night to you?"

Narcissa stared, and stuttered, "Err… nine o'clock, m'Lord?"

He lazily waved his wand. "Crucio." Her screams echoed off the wall. Damn that hand for not moving faster! He cut off the curse, and ignored how all his Death Eaters quickly slunk out of the room. _Come back in the evening_, he mocked bitterly. The stupid boy had thrown him out earlier for it being too early. He was the goddamned Dark Lord; he should not have to follow the whims of a teenager!

But nevertheless, here he was, waiting for a summons from Potter. Just when he was about to go Blast down the door, a Conjured crane divebombed his head. Reading it, he scowled, threw it on the ground, and stalked upstairs.

_You may come to me now, Tom. _

oOo

It amazes me how you can still pout with the face of a snake. Ouch. You don't have to Crucio me for every damn remark I make, y'know. You could always give me a scathing retort. Well, you could if you were intelligent enough to form one. Ow. I'm telling the story, okay? Where were we? Oh, I remember.

Grindelwald burst into the dungeon. Standing there with a manic grin on his face and holding a Crucio on a small girl, was his lover Albus.

Gellert skidded to a halt, and Albus turned around in surprise. He smiled happily. 'There you are, Gellert! Just in time!" he cried. 'I caught the blood traitor here sharing food with a Muggle. A Muggle! Can you imagine it? Naturally, I killed the piece of filth, but I thought I'd bring this one back here for us to play with. D'you want your turn now?'

Gellert said faintly, 'Albus…that's your sister. Ariana.'

Albus's eyes turned to ice. 'I don't have a sister anymore. As a matter of fact, I don't remember ever having one.'

Gellert stumbled back until he hit a wall. He just couldn't believe it. How could he reconcile the Albus with the twinkling eyes and tender laugh with this… monster?

Albus looked concerned. 'Gellert? Are you alright?' he asked anxiously. He reached one hand out to Gellert, who shrank back. His face cleared, and he broke out into a smile. 'I know! The sight of this rubbish makes you sick, doesn't it? Well, don't worry; I'll clean it up.'

He turned back to the convulsing girl, and raised his wand. Gellert shouted in horror, 'No!'

But it was too late. The Avada Kedavra had already been spoken. Green lit up the room for a single instant and then vanished. Albus went to go to Gellert, but he shakily put out his wand. Albus halted, confused. Gellert whispered, 'Don't you dare come near me, Dumbledore. Ever again. I won't destroy you now because I once loved you, but the next time I see you I will show no mercy.'

Albus looked bewildered. 'Is this a joke, Gellert? Because it's not very funny. Come here; you look ill.' And he tried to get closer to Gellert once again.

'Protego.' A shield sprung up between them, and threw Albus backwards. Gellert pushed himself off the wall, and shakily walked out of the dungeon, never looking back.

Albus's yells echoed behind him. 'Don't you dare walk out on me! If you leave me, I'll kill you! Please! Stop! Don't go, you son of a bitch! You're with me or against me! I'll kill you!'

Gellert kept walking until he reached the main door. He pushed it open, and went out into the bright sunlight. A few metres down the way, a small boy lay in a pool of his own blood. Before he broke down, Gellert Apparated, to Merlin knows where, and wasn't seen again for several years.

So, I'm guessing you know the rest of the story, right, Tom? Albus becomes the good guy; after all, his family has been Light for ages. Grindelwald, a young upstart, is the villain. Albus claims he knew nothing of Grindelwald's plans to kill all Muggles, oh no. He never would've joined him if he had known he was evil. Gellert attempts to show the world who Dumbledore really is, but no one believes him. He's labeled the Wizarding World's greatest threat, and is so until he's defeated in 1945 by (you guessed it) Dumbledore. The End. Great story, wasn't it?

oOo

Voldemort gaped. "That's- there's no way- you can't-"

Potter smiled gently. "I can't what, Tom? Know that's the real story? The way history actually went? Oh, but I can. It's amazing what you can learn from primary sources."

His jaw dropped. "_Dumbledore_ told you that tale?"

Potter shook his head. "No, Dumbledore gave me the glossed-over version. But, I did a little research, and found an epilogue of sorts. Did you know that Grindelwald is still alive? No? I didn't either. It's not a widely published fact. But there he is, wasting away in Nurmengard Prison, just waiting for someone to hear his side of it. And I did. It wasn't easy to get in, but being the Boy-Who-Lived holds a little weight here and there."

Voldemort was still in shock. How could it be that this _child_ had gone and seen the greatest Dark Lord of all time single-handedly (although, if the tale was true, then Voldemort had been under the tutelage of the greatest Dark Lord of all time for seven years without suspecting a thing)? All he could think to say was, "But- but you're fourteen!"

Green eyes darkened. "Sixteen, Tom. I think you'd remember my fourteenth year, seeing as you regained a body during that period. Not the nicest body, I must admit. If you could regain any corporeal form, I'd think you'd at least want a mildly good-looking one."

Voldemort glared at the impertinent boy. "I'll have you know that this appearance strikes fear into the heart of millions."

Potter snorted. "Fear, maybe. Awe, no. You're definitely not winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, that's for sure."

Voldemort was incensed. "What makes you think I want the adoration of middle-aged housewives? I don't! I don't care what I look like, and neither should you. I'm going to kill you now. Your pathetic wish has been granted, although the story has put me in a rather horrid mood. I'll give you a nice thought to send you on with to the afterlife: I'll be torturing my Death Eaters tonight because of you."

Potter stretched his arms, revealing a small expanse of pale abdomen. Voldemort tried very hard not to stare at it; he thought he mostly succeeded.

Potter sighed, and said, "Well, I do hate to keel over with you still in a foul disposition. It's still nighttime; I have time to tell you one more story."

Voldemort emphatically shook his head. "Not another word out of you."

Potter peered earnestly at him. "But it's got a happy ending! The Dark side wins this time! And there's torture and killing and humiliation of the Light!"

Hope personified stared at him. Voldemort gave a feeble attempt at resistance, just for show. He grumbled, "If you don't start soon, boy, it'll be daylight. And then you won't be able to tell any stories…"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Because I'll be dead. Yes, I know. You're not as amusing as you think you are, you know that?"

Voldemort didn't deign that with a response.

oOo

This one, I'm sorry to say, is not a true story. For the sake of soothing your small mind, I'll use names you already know, so that you don't have to remember so many new people. Poor little Tom. Can he not think of any other curses besides the Cruciatus? Well. I must admit, the carnivorous toenails are new to me. Moving on.

Once upon a time, there was were two boys. They were best friends, and had grown up with each other since birth. Their names were Godric and Salazar. They did everything together: making Potions, spying on Muggles, and fighting mock duels.

They were trained by the same tutor, since Hogwarts had not yet been built. But in the winter, the weather grew too unpredictable for their tutor to Apparate, and so the boys were left mostly unsupervised. Which was perfectly alright with them.

Year after year this tradition went on, until the boys reached the age of sixteen. Their personalities had split over the years, and although Salazar thought they were as close as ever, Godric had begun feeling distaste for his best friend. Salazar had become more studious and thoughtful, while Godric was boisterous and rough. Salazar had begun dabbling into spells which would be considered Dark nowadays, and Godric was a vehement champion of the Light.

Salazar would follow after Godric wherever he went. They would often go down to the tavern, to hear the old wizards speak of their glory days, and Godric would become friendlier after tankards of Firewhiskey.

One blisteringly cold night, Godric and Salazar tumbled into the pub, with two Firewhiskies waiting for them by the fire. An elderly pureblood was regaling a small crowd with tales of how he had personally slept with Circe back in his golden age. Relishing the warmth in their bellies, the teens perked their ears when a hooded traveler started to speak (for the old man had long since toppled over drunk). He told the story of a man who lived at the top of the world. He could control the weather, some said, and had caused many a death of wandering Muggles. He was said to be as handsome as a snow-covered mountain, with skin the color of icicles, and eyes of a frozen winter sky.

Salazar shivered, more than his belly warming from the thought of a man with such great power. The stranger went on to say that the man, who was known as the Snow King, could wield the Dark Arts like no other could even attempt to do, and that he had defeated multiple Light Lords.

Godric scoffed, and declared a little too loudly, 'Any man who dares uses the Dark Arts will never be a king. With the power of the Light, I would defeat him with one blow!'

The traveler smiled slightly, and muttered a spell before disappearing into the night. Godric uttered a cry, and clutched at his chest. 'Ah! It feels like my heart has frozen! Ah! A shard of glass has pierced my eye!'

Salazar asked concernedly if he was alright, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Without looking up, Godric shoved the hand away and stood up. He laughed cruelly, and replied, 'What need have I for your pathetic womanly worries? Be off, and pester some lesser man!'

Hurt, Salazar watched as Godric waltzed out into the night, leaving his coat and wand behind.

Three days passed, and Salazar hadn't seen Godric since. His initial anger had turned to unease; where had his best friend gone? He hadn't been at home, or the pub. It was as if he had simply…disappeared.

Salazar paced the floor in front of the fire frantically. Anxiety finally overwhelmed him, and he sank to his knees in despair. What would he do without his best friend? How could he survive?

Deep in the throes of misery, he didn't notice the owl pecking at the window. A strong gust of wind blew, and the pane flew open. A blast of icy air gutted the fire, and a letter hit him on the head.

With trembling fingers, he opened it to trace the heavy parchment.

_Dear Sal, _

_This is just to tell you where I am, so you don't do something stupid, like trying to find me. I don't really care about you, but if you died then other people would try to seek me out. I'm happier than I ever was with you; it turns out that that Snow King isn't as bad as I thought he was. I won't think about you ever again, and you should try to do the same. _

_Farewell, _

_Godric Gryffindor_

Salazar numbly let the letter fall to the floor. This couldn't be. Godric was his best friend; he would never write something this cruel. And Salazar remembered the night at the tavern. _It feels like my heart has frozen! A shard of glass has pierced my eye! _

The traveler must have done something to Godric! Salazar sprang up from the floor, and grabbed his cape and a satchel of food. He flung open his door, and trudged out into the blizzard. He would save his best friend from whatever curse he had been put under.

And he would ignore the small voice in the back of his head that kept saying, _Of course, the fact that Godric's being held by the handsome and powerful Snow King has no effect on you whatsoever. _

oOo

Voldemort looked up and mentally groaned. "Oh, no. Not this time. You said that you could finish it by daylight. I'm not falling for your stupid game again."

Potter glared at him. "Well, it's not my fault! I was trying to take a nap earlier so I could stay awake all night and entertain you, but _somebody_ kept rudely interrupting my sleep to ask every five minutes whether it was night yet! I'm tired! I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow evening."

And with that, Potter rolled over and snuggled into his blankets. Voldemort's fists clenched convulsively, and he sneakily raised his wand.

"If you kill me now, you'll never know what happened."

Damn. He rose, and slammed the door on his way out, ignoring the cheerful, "Goodnight, Tom!"

He would go into his office, smash a few valuable heirlooms that belonged to the Malfoys, and torture a few Death Eaters. It was fine. He could wait until tomorrow night.

Really. He could.

oOo

Five minutes later, he was proverbially tearing out his hair. Why couldn't time go faster?!

After breaking every article in his study, and then setting the whole mess on fire, he went to the library. If he couldn't hear a story, he could at least read one.

Summoning Lucius, he absently tortured him for a few minutes, then asked him where the fairy tales were located. Lucius gaped, then Summoned the shelf to Voldemort's side.

He then told Lucius to gather all the Death Eaters, and have them look for spells or potions to change his appearance to his youthful state.

Kicking a hem-kissing Lucius out of the library, he firmly told himself that he wasn't changing his appearance because Potter told him he was ugly.

It was merely to give the brat something attractive to look at as he died.

TO BE CONTINUED.

A/N: The end of Chapter Two! The Snow Queen will be finished up next chapter, and I believe it will be followed by Cinderella and the myth of Hades and Persephone. Thank you to Animestar73 and WynterRavenheart for suggesting these!

Please review; I'd love to hear your story ideas and suggestions!


	3. Interlude: Respect

**Title: **Scheherazade

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **Harry/Lord Voldemort, possibly others

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Slash, language, violence, possible character death (not main pairing), Grey and possibly Dark!Harry. Cho, Ron, and Dumbledore bashing.

**Summary: **Voldemort didn't believe that a bound and unconscious Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he plans to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. A Harry Potter retelling of One Thousand and One Nights.

**Author's Notes: **Read the Author's Note at the bottom before killing me, please. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!

Scheherazade

_Interlude- Respect _

It was the second day in a row that Harry had woken up feeling refreshed. How ironic was it, he thought wryly, that the only time he could sleep without nightmares was when he was under the same roof as the man who killed his parents?

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Sometimes he was almost grateful that Tom had killed his parents. He didn't have to go through all the family drama that his year mates complained about, he never had to worry about taking a date home to meet the folks. And from what Harry had heard about his father, he was quite relieved that he had never met the man.

Did he regret not knowing his mum? Probably, but regrets couldn't change the past. It was time to move on and face the uncertainty of the future, not wallow in the concrete facts of history.

The door opened, and one of the Lestrange brothers strode in. Harry smiled, but not at him; Tom didn't know it yet, but Harry had forgiven him a long time ago.

oOo

It was seven o'clock.

_Tom,_

_Since you've been such a good boy and not bothered me all day, you may come to me now. _

_Harry. _

_By the way, I do enjoy your Death Eaters. They're so very intriguing._

oOo

"Before you begin, Potter, I have a few questions that must be cleared up."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Would this possibly have to do with the whole I-don't-know-what-my-purpose-in-life-is-now-that-I-think-Grindelwald's-not-a-Dark-Lord that's written on your forehead?"

Voldemort automatically raised a hand to feel the smooth skin. There was nothing there! Potter broke out laughing, and gasped out, "By the way, there's gullible written on the ceiling!"

He tried not to look up. He really did. But sometimes Bellatrix went a little more mad than usual, and started writing all over his walls. At this point, Potter was bent over at the waist and clutching his sides. Voldemort scowled, and sent a Crucio the boy's way to make him grasp his hips for a purpose.

The gaiety gradually subsided, and Potter wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, Tom. No one makes my heart light like you do. Anyway, I'm assuming that your question was about Grindelwald?"

He nodded warily, and Potter continued. "There's this misconception about Dark Lords that people seem to have. They think if you use Dark spells, then you're automatically a bad person. But that's not true. Dark wizards are simply people who use spells that convention deems unsuitable; they're visionaries and revolutionaries. So, while Grindelwald is a Dark Lord, he isn't evil. He treated people with respect, wanted people to join his side without him controlling them, and really just wished that people would broaden their minds about 'Dark' and 'Light' magic. Besides the whole magic diluting thing, that is."

Voldemort internally relaxed. He would've had to reevaluate his entire life if Grindelwald wasn't a Dark Lord. Potter waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, you in there! I'm not finished. I had a point with this question and answer session: that Grindelwald was a Dark Lord, but he wasn't a bastard like you are. Hear me out; I don't like the way you've been treating your followers. I think it's rude, and you ought to be grateful to them."

He spluttered. _Grateful_? To _Death Eaters_? They were his minions, his-

Potter cut off his inner monologue. "These people have gone through hell and back for you. Yes, I know you have your whole whiny I-lost-my-body-and-was-a-spirit-for-fourteen-years-thing. No one cares. The Death Eaters have devoted their entire lives to you, giving up their houses like the Malfoys have, no doubt giving you control of their Gringotts accounts, and most of them have gone to Azkaban. For you. I think you can treat them better, if not like equals, and until I see proof of that, you're not getting another story."

While Voldemort was frozen in shock at someone telling him how to control _his _minions, Potter Levitated him out into the hallway, and gently closed the door in his face. A telltale clicking of the lock was heard.

Enraged, he searched his mind for a spell suitable enough to cause Potter immense pain, when a letter slid under the door.

_Tom, _

_We both know that fighting me is futile. Go make nice with your Death Eaters, and you'll get a reward. It's that simple. _

Voldemort pinched the place where the bridge of his nose would be, and stalked away from Potter's bedroom. He felt a migraine coming on.

oOo

"My Lord!" Lucius cried after him. "After searching for the past twenty-four hours, we have found a potion that can revert your body to that of its form in your early twenties!"

Voldemort whirled around, preparing to Crucio the fifteen-odd Death Eaters gathered around him, but he stopped short with the memory of Potter echoing in his ears and the hope from his followers' eyes overwhelming him.

He sighed heavily. He knew when to concede gracefully, and this was a battle he could never hope to win. Clearing his throat, he replied, "What excellent news, Lucius. I must commend you and your team on such a rapid and brilliant success. Why don't you all take the next two days off, to recuperate from such a strenuous mission?"

The jaws around him dropped in tandem. "M-my Lord?" they all questioned.

He wearily waved his hand. "You all deserve to rest; I am in debt to all of you. Be off now, and return in two days refreshed."

With stunned bows and murmurs of astonished gratitude, they all retreated from his presence.

Voldemort grimaced. This nicety idea left a cloying scent in his mouth, but it wasn't too hard to pull off.

oOo

Two weeks later, Voldemort thought Harry Potter was a god.

His Death Eaters completed their missions more quickly than ever, didn't complain about taking watch, offered helpful suggestions that were actually helpful, and were overall spectacularly on their game.

All because he would smile, and say thank you if they handed him something. Or not Crucio them if they made errors in paperwork. Small things like that made his workforce run so much more smoothly.

Surprisingly, it felt a little good to have his followers not cowering in fear every six seconds. He almost felt, for the first time in his life, like he had…friends.

His life was going better than it ever had gone before, thanks to Potter. Voldemort chewed on the end of a quill thoughtfully; perhaps if he was nicer to Potter, then Potter would tell him more stories. It was an option worth considering.

His day came to an all-time high when he received a letter from the boy.

_Tom,_

_I have received several glowing recommendations about you, and I must say that you exceeded my expectations. Congratulations. _

_You may come to me tonight. _

TO BE CONTINUED.

A/N: I'm sorry, it was either a short update now, or a wait two weeks for a next chapter. I know there's no tales in this one, but I really felt that they had to get this block out of the way for their relationship to succeed. 'Tis important for the plot development.

I will attempt to update this shortly, but I don't know when. The Snow Queen will be finished in the next chapter, I promise. Please review; I appreciate hearing all of your thoughts. However, I do have enough story suggestions to make two stories.

If you are interested, I recently posted a Neville/Severus story, and finished my (-shudders-) Dramione series. :]

And as some form of an apology, here is a small outtake, which was unfortunately way too OOC for the real story. Enjoy!

**VIGNETTE! **

Lucius wobbled into the salon around midday, catching most of the Death Eaters completely by surprise. His hair was in disarray, he had a large handprint outlined on his face, and his beloved cane was missing.

Voldemort stared in amusement. "Lucius, did you walk into a brothel between me asking you to check on Potter and now?"

Lucius bowed hastily, and tried futilely to tame his appearance. "What a marvelous jest, my Lord. However, my current visage was caused only by Potter. Might I suggest that he be given a Calming Potion, my Lord? The boy is clearly unstable."

Voldemort raised the place where his eyebrow would be if he could grow hair. "Really, Lucius? The boy seem quite sane, albeit insufferable, when I left him last. In what ways did his insanity materialize?"

Lucius huffed. "Well, my Lord, if the physical evidence of the attacks upon myself are not enough, I can supply you with plenty more attributes. Upon arriving in the room, the Potter boy took it upon himself to hug me, and anxiously ask me if my stay in Azkaban had left me under the weather. I naturally removed him from my person, and kindly asked him whether he was under the Imperius Curse. He laughed at me, rather loudly, and then inquired that if he was under Imperio, why would someone instruct him to hug me instead of killing me. I conceded that his reasoning was sound, at which point he slapped me, and demanded I give unto him my…"

Lucius broke off and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'pimp cane.'

All the Death Eaters froze. Lucius blushed.

Voldemort blinked, and decided that they would never have this discussion again.

"So," he began awkwardly, "how 'bout them Falcons?"

THE END OF THIS.

BUT THE STORY WILL BE CONTINUED.


	4. The Snow Queen and Cinderella

**Title: **Scheherazade

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairing: **Harry/Lord Voldemort, possibly others

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Slash, language, violence, possible character death (not main pairing), Grey and possibly Dark!Harry. Cho, Ron, and Dumbledore bashing.

**Summary: **Voldemort didn't believe that a bound and unconscious Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he plans to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. A Harry Potter retelling of One Thousand and One Nights.

Scheherazade

_The Snow Queen- Part Two and_

_Cinderella- Part One _

Salazar stared at the raging river before him. It was at least a kilometer wide, and seemed to go on forever. How was he ever supposed to make it across? Part of him just wanted to go back and huddle in front of his fireplace with a book. But the burning in his blood whenever he thought about the Snow King told him he had to keep going north, no matter what. He would figure out a way to get to the other side.

oOo

Two hours later, he flopped down on the frozen ground in frustration. He had tried Levitating himself across with no avail, the wind was too strong for him to fly safely in it, and he couldn't swim. It was hopeless.

A harsh, screeching sound reverberated around him. He shot up and looked around in panic, his wand firmly grasped in his hand.

A mermaid had its arms resting on the outer bank, its gray skin almost blending in with the stormy water. Its jagged teeth and wild eyes made Salazar gulp and unconsciously take a step back. The mermaid was laughing at him, he realized. Because he couldn't get across.

Salazar's temper boiled over, and he exploded. 'Stop laughing, you stupid thing! I already know that I'm an idiot, and that I'll never get across, so I don't need you telling me that too!'

The mermaid smiled mockingly, and shrugged lightly at him. Salazar glared at it for a little while, then reached back and tugged off his cape. If he couldn't get across, he might as well get some sleep. He set the cape on the ground.

He heard a strangled squawking noise, and looked up. The mermaid was grappling at the pebbles on the side of the shore, and straining to get out of the water. He looked at it in mild curiosity, and then smirked.

'Oh, how I long to take a nice, long nap on my luxurious cloak!' he cried. 'It's simply marvelous; so comfortable, and made of the finest fabrics, too!'

The mermaid's gibberish became louder, and it succeeded in getting halfway out of the water before slipping back in again. Salazar stood up, and pointed his wand steadily at the mermaid. 'I'll make you a deal. You get me safely across the river, and I'll give you my cloak once I'm on the other side.'

The mermaid stared calculatingly at him, and shrieked in agreement (he assumed). Quickly, he cast a _Protego horribilus_ on the cloak, and the mermaid looked at him questioningly. He replied, 'This way if you try to drown me on the way there or trick me in any way, you'll never get the cloak. It's protected until I remove the spell.'

A little bit of light went out of the mermaid's eyes, but it still motioned for him to come forward. Salazar strode quickly into the icy water, and barely had time to take a bracing breath before the mermaid flipped him onto its back, and he went jumping over the surface of the water.

Thirty seconds later, he was forcefully flung onto the opposite shore, and was looking upside down at an impressive collection of sharp grey teeth.

He got up slowly, and grumbled, 'Alright, alright, here's your damned cloak. Thank you for not killing me.'

The mermaid stroked the cloak wonderingly, and then promptly started eating it. Salazar laughed in disbelief. Shivering violently, he cast a rapid succession of Warming charms.

They didn't help. Salazar didn't know if it was because he was soaked to the bone, or if his magical core had been drained by the cold. He stumbled along the riverbank wearily, and started looking for some sort of shelter. He could feel his limbs becoming heavy, and he knew that if he didn't get out of the blizzard soon, he might die.

A heavily decorated gate loomed out of the swirling whiteness. He dragged himself towards it, felt the warm wood beneath his fingertips, and passed out.

oOo

He felt warm. So very warm that he assumed that he had died and gone to Hell. If he had, he didn't care much. It was comfortable there.

A rustling sound came next to him, and a soft hand pressed against his forehead. A voice clucked, 'Poor little lamb, he wore himself out in the cold, didn't he? That's alright; he'll be nice and safe in Morgana's garden.'

Listening to the slightly childish voice, Salazar fell back into a deep sleep.

oOo

Salazar walked warily out into the brightness. His eyes widened in surprise. He was standing in an earthly paradise. Blue, pink, and yellow aconite hung their petals lazily; he could see why they were also called monkshood. White flowers with brown streaks were bunched together on thin green stalks, and he believed they were asphodel, from what he could remember from Potions. Daisies and fluxweed were clumped together; hellebore, knotgrass, and lovage waved gently in the breeze. In a corner sat some brooding bubotubers, surrounded by belladonna and a cranky-looking Devil's Snare. Ash, oak, and willow trees curved gently into the garden, creating the illusion of a secret hideaway.

'You like my pretties then, poppet?'

Salazar whirled around. A young woman with ancient eyes smiled sweetly at him. A sprig of nettle was woven in her hair, and her hands were stained with various liquids. She nodded at the plants behind them, and said, 'Of course, they're all perfectly practical, but they are so beautiful to look at!'

He cleared his throat and replied, 'Indeed, madam. Might I inquire where I am, and how I came to be here?'

She giggled girlishly. 'Call me Morgana; madam makes me feel so old! And you're in my garden, silly! I brought you here out of the cold! I thought to myself, what sort of fool would be out in that weather? And then I realized it was your sort of fool!'

He blinked slowly. 'I don't…remember what I was doing out there. I just can't seem to recall. It was rather foolish of me, wasn't it?'

She beamed at him. 'No harm done, pet! Now, how would you like to help me with a potion?'

He shrugged, and acquiesced. Wisps of memories drifted like hazy sunbeams through his mind.

oOo

He was growing frustrated. Every time he started to remember something, Morgana would feed him something or have him smell a flower, and he would lose it. Whenever he would go towards the heavy wooden gate, she would find a way to stop him from getting any closer. It had gone on for a month, and he was sick of it.

She was drying herbs in her basement when he finally escaped. He walked to the gate slowly, his mind growing less foggy with every step. With all of his strength, he pushed it open, and flung himself outside.

The sudden biting cold returned his senses to him. Damn it! He had wasted a month in that dreamland when he could've been saving Godric! He shivered suddenly, and looked longingly back at the golden haven.

He wouldn't go back. Jaw set resolutely, he trudged out into the storm in his tattered shirt and short trousers. He cast a Warming Bubble around him, and pressed determinedly on.

oOo

After walking for three days and resting for short times, he happened upon another person.

Well, he thought it was a person. He wasn't exactly sure. The man (beast?) was crouched on all fours, rags hanging off his muscled body and blond hair matted to his dirt-streaked face. The man-beast was stroking a rabbit that he had caught in a crude trap, and murmuring nonsense words to him.

He cleared his throat, and feeling very foolish indeed, asked, 'Pardon me, but have you seen a tall red-haired man pass by here sometime in the past month and a half?'

The man-beast leaped up, and stared at him warily. Lunging forward, he sniffed Salazar deeply, and pulled back. Seemingly satisfied, he grinned and replied, 'Nope, can't say that I have! Hullo, I'm Arthur, King of the Britons! And you are?'

He was shocked. This grimy _thing_ was a king? Absently, he said, 'Salazar Slytherin.'

Arthur clapped him on his back, and said cheerfully, 'Well, have a sit then, Sal! Get a load off your feet!'

He stared frostily at Arthur. 'It's Salazar, actually.'

oOo

At the end of their meal, Arthur leaned back and burped loudly. He then told Salazar some ridiculous tale about how some water nymph had given him a weapon from a lake and proclaimed him as King of the Britons. Salazar wondered vaguely who the Britons were. When he asked, Arthur laughed, and said they were all Britons.

He lent Salazar a reindeer to continue his quest, and reminded him to come back anytime.

As Salazar rode away, he thought disdainfully, _Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government._ (1)

oOo

He knocked hesitantly at the door of a small cottage. A wise-looking dark-haired woman opened it immediately, and beckoned him inside. She bent to check on a kettle and called over her shoulder, 'I'm assuming you are the one sent by the Muggle king?'

He started, and replied warily. 'Yes, I am. Are you a Seer?'

She smiled at him. 'Everyone can see, my dear. Those who can look are harder to find.'

He asked quietly, 'Who are you?'

'You may call me Rowena.'

oOo

After traveling a week from Rowena's house, he reached a second cottage. A plump smiling woman answered the door and ushered him inside.

He pulled off his frozen cloak, and removed a letter from a pouch. 'I bring this from your cousin, Rowena. She said that you would be able to offer me more sturdy transportation than I currently have?'

Helga Hufflepuff beamed at him. 'Of course, dearie! I breed the best hippogriffs in the world!'

oOo

The beast called Steelclaw landed awkwardly in the raging storm. Salazar could barely see the glistening castle in the distance, but he knew the hippogriff could go no further. He bowed deeply to Steelclaw, and set off on the final leg of his journey.

Steadily trudging closer, he caught his breath in awe of the pristine frozen turrets and glacial towers. As he drew closer to the silent gatehouse, the blizzard turned into gentle flurries of powdery snow.

oOo

He walked into the Main Hall and gasped softly. All around him, everywhere he looked, was himself.

His image was carved into blocks of ice, scraped into the frozen floor, painted in a dull red color on the walls.

'What are you doing here? Get out! No one is ever allowed here!'

His heart stopped. That angry voice was so familiar. He shut his eyes tightly, and didn't dare to hope. 'Godric?'

'Who the fuck else would it be?'

oOo

Salazar whirled around and ran to him, half-sobbing. 'Godric! I'm so happy it's you! I've missed you so much! I've looked for you for so long!'

He wrapped his arms around a chilled body that immediately pushed him away. He skidded backwards on the slippery floor, and bumped into a statue of himself. It smashed into a million pieces, and Godric gasped. A shard of ice flew out of his eye, and a melted spot appeared on his clothed chest.

Godric blinked several times, and seemed to recognize him. 'Salazar? What the fuck are you doing here? Actually, where are we?'

Salazar got up slowly. 'We're in the palace of the Snow King, don't you remember? I came here to rescue you!'

Godric looked at him in horror. 'How did I get here? You must've brought me! You're in league with that Dark bastard, aren't you? I knew it!'

Confused, Salazar said quickly, 'No, of course not! Godric, you were here! I came to _rescue _you!'

Whipping out his wand, Godric sneered. 'Don't be stupid; I would remember if I came here myself. This is another one of your Dark tricks, isn't it? Well, I won't fall for it. I'm smarter than you think I am, y'know. I knew you were evil from the beginning.'

Salazar cried helplessly, 'What are you talking about, Godric? It's me; your best friend, Salazar!'

Godric snorted disgustedly. 'Don't give me that crap. I just wanted to get close enough to you to kill you. I'm a Light Lord, Slytherin; I don't tarry with filthy Dark scum.'

He cast a quick spell that cut Salazar's arm deeply, and sent a spray of blood out over several sculptures.

'Say goodbye to your pathetic existence, Dark vermin.'

Salazar clutched at his arm weakly. 'You're my best friend, Godric. I've always looked up to you; don't do this!' he pleaded.

In reply, Godric merely raised his wand and waved it in a complicated manner. Salazar shut his eyes tightly; he couldn't bear to see his only companion triumph over his death.

A long chant of Latin streamed through the room, and Salazar curled into himself, already losing consciousness from blood loss. He cried out mentally, _Save me…_

Godric gave a long, agonizing scream.

Salazar blacked out.

oOo

He was cradled in cold arms; he couldn't find warmth anywhere but the searing pain along his arm. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he fell into the abyss of sweet oblivion.

oOo

The first thing he saw when he reawakened was full blue lips.

They moved, and asked him, 'Do you feel pain?'

He assessed himself, and said with some wonder, 'Not at all.'

The lips parted, revealing shining white teeth. 'I am relieved; I feared that my healing technique would not work on others.'

Salazar tilted his head back, and gazed at the man holding him. Skin as pale as ice, with eyes of a tempestuous winter storm. He spoke with assurance. 'You are the Snow King.'

'I am known by that name in some areas, yes.'

He sat up with a gasp. 'Godric-!'

The Snow King looked away sadly. 'I'm afraid that your friend is no longer with us. He died when he attempted to cast a magic removal spell on you.'

Salazar felt a throbbing hurt in his heart appear. He said quietly, 'I just don't understand what happened to him. My best friend would've never done something like that.'

The Snow King gazed at him, and replied seriously, 'I will try to explain the best I can. Your friend suffered from a severe rift in between his ideals and his soul. He had a darkness inside him that was greater than anything I had ever seen, but he tried to mask it with his outer portrayal of the Light. It was tearing him apart. I could feel the darkness here all the way from your village. I traversed to your town as a traveler, and sealed his heart away as an attempt to slow the process.'

Salazar whispered, 'So _you_ were the storyteller…'

The Snow King said, 'Yes, I was. But I'm afraid that your friend's ultimate demise is partially my fault. I was not expecting to see you at that tavern, and was so struck by your beauty, that I cast the sealing spell wrong. Your friend became somehow attached to me, and traveled here. I could not force him to leave. Believe me, I tried, but to no avail. And then you came, and broke the sealing spell. I believe that since I was infatuated with you when I cast the spell, that you were somehow the trigger for the release of the sealing. Your friend's darkness, which had been festering latently during the spell, encompassed him, and overtook his body.'

Salazar clutched at the Snow King's shirt. 'How did he die?' he asked desperately.

The Snow King replied gently, 'When his darkness attacked him, some part of his Light façade tried to fight it, and they imploded inside him. I knew I couldn't save him, but I had to try to heal you.'

The King looked away from Salazar. 'I don't expect you to forgive me. I killed your best friend. I cannot express how deeply sorry I am.'

Salazar touched the King's jaw. 'There is nothing to forgive, Sire. If it was as you say it is, I don't believe even the greatest Healer in the world could've saved him. Please don't blame yourself.'

Salazar sighed, and slumped in the King's lap. 'I just wish I knew what to do now. I never had anyone important in my life besides Godric, and going back to my village would bring back too many painful memories.'

The King stared steadily over Salazar's head. 'I realize it is not much of an offer, but you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.'

Salazar blushed. 'I think that would make me very happy.'

The King looked down at him and smiled helplessly. Salazar raised a finger. 'On one condition: tell me why all of these sculptures are here.'

The King flushed a little, and muttered, 'I couldn't get you out of my head. I couldn't sleep; so I would come down here and sculpt the image of you that was emblazoned in my mind.'

Salazar said quietly, 'I am honored, Your Majesty.'

The King gazed into his eyes. 'Call me Merlin.'

oOo

Potter took a deep breath and slumped against the pillows. He looked feverish; sweat was pouring down his forehead, and his gaze was far too bright.

Potter said, "Let me tell you another story."

Voldemort protested, "Clearly you are unwell. I will call for Sever–"

The boy sat up abruptly. "Tom, I _need_ to tell you another story. Please, just let me do this."

He sighed. "Fine. But don't blame me when you keel over of exhaustion in the middle of the story."

oOo

Once upon a time, there was a boy who was loved dearly by his father. He would've been loved dearly by his mother, but she was dead. The boy's father felt that his son was in need of maternal guidance, so he married a woman with two sons his boy's age.

The woman turned out to be a complete shrew, however, and completely dominated her new husband.

She sent him out on frequent business trips, but always spent more money than the poor man could earn. On one of these trips, the man was attacked by bandits, and died.

Immediately, the boy was stripped of his rights, and sent to live in a cupboard as a servant.

He would be treated like a slave for the next eight years of his life.

The boy's name was Rem–

oOo

Potter stopped abruptly. Voldemort sighed; the stupid boy never finished anything.

Impatiently, he questioned, "Potter?" And then louder, "_Potter?_"

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, and blood seeped through his pants.

TO BE CONTINUED.

A quote by Dennis from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

A/N: What? Cliffhanger? I don't know the meaning of that word… ^-^

I have the next two chapters outlined, so hopefully they'll go faster.

I have two new stories that I'm updating:

**If Wishes Were Bowtruckles**: What do snakes know of love? Ask a Slytherin. The title is inspired by Kamerreon's wonderful series.

**The Courting of Angau**: When faced with the toughest decision of his life, Harry is given only one choice. Then again, he was never good at following the rules. Harry/OC slash.

Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, and for Favoriting and Alerting!


	5. Cinderella and The Dragon and The Prince

**NOTE:** This chapter is dedicated to Beebee, because the Lucius/Harry is a long time coming. Sorry. ^-^

Scheherazade

_Cinderella- Part Two, and _

_That One Story about a Dragon and a Princes– Er, Prince- Part One _

oOo

_Spots of light danced around him. He half-heartedly batted them away from his head, and muttered, "Geroff." _

_He was so__** tired**__, but the lights wouldn't go away. They just fluttered around him like faeries, twinkling gently until he wanted to throttle them. _

_The lights flared up suddenly, and he felt all his worries and cares slip away from him. He vaguely remembered something about a story, and the burning need to tell it, but that too faded as the brightness intensified. _

_A voice, as loving as a mother's arms, encircled him. "Harry," it intoned. "You've been a very naughty boy."_

_He hung his head, suddenly ashamed. _

_The voice continued, "I'm willing to overlook that, however. You can redeem yourself, Harry, and that would make me very happy. I would be so proud of you." _

_Harry looked up eagerly, and nodded frantically. Yes! He wanted to make the voice happy! He would do anything, anything at all! _

"_I knew you would make the right decision, Harry. I'm so very proud of you. To make me forget all your mistakes, just complete the task that you set out to do."_

_Harry frowned confusedly. How he longed to fulfill the voice's desire; if only he could remember the task! _

_The voice snapped impatiently, "The Dark Lord, Harry! Come now, don't be so stupid! For Merlin's sake, Voldemort!"_

_He emerged from the vision as if underwater, slowly approaching the surface, and shooting out into the sunlight. _

"_Tom!" he cried. "Tom! Get away from me! Please! Just- just go! NOW!" _

_Something clawed viciously at his leg, and drug him back under. As Harry went deeper, everything withered except a single word. _

_Tom._

oOo

Dark power broiled hungrily around him, and he whipped out his wand before he realized it would do no good. The black aura swirling around him wasn't something he could defend himself against; it was Potter's inner core.

And as soon as Voldemort realized that, a surge of lust almost as strong as Potter's power overtook him. He pushed that feeling to the side as arcs of blood literally flew from Potter's legs. Focusing his concentration, he aimed his wand at Potter's lower half, and incanted, "_Episkey_."

It didn't work. If anything, it made Potter worse. He started thrashing about, spittle flying, his mouth opened in a silent scream. The Dark intensity surrounded Potter, and Levitated him off the bed. A harsh wind picked up, and Voldemort watched as a chaise was flung through the window. The sensation of pure power strengthened until Voldemort felt it pressing down on him, squeezing his core tightly. He worked his throat convulsively, but nothing came out. Gathering his magic, he sent out a single desperate plea.

_SEVERUS! _

oOo

Severus puttered around his lab, absentmindedly looking for a cork for his phial of Wit-Sharpening Potion, when a thought shout shattered his peace.

_SEVERUS! _

He felt his hand tighten, he saw the vial shatter, he heard himself curse violently. But all of that was overshadowed by the massive wave of force coming from the East Wing, and the anguish in his Master's thought.

Severus ran.

oOo

Severus fought to Blast the door open, his fear deterring his ability as much as the roiling Darkness in the next room. But it didn't matter; the door was ripped off its hinges, and sent flying out the window. Severus firmly planted his feet, and tried not to follow in its path. Making a hurried survey of the room, he saw the Dark Lord feebly hanging onto a post of the bed, and–

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he thought he might've wet himself. Dark purple and ebony currents of energy were shooting from Potter's body, jetting off and randomly scorching the walls. The boy's form was convulsing, and Severus realized that Potter's current form couldn't handle that amount of power. It was going to expel itself from Potter's body, and kill them all.

And Severus couldn't stop it, could barely stay standing. He grasped at the doorframe, and squinted at the dark spots clouding his vision.

oOo

Groaning at the intense light worming its way behind his eyelids, he decided that Potter must've killed him.

Because only Hell could be this annoying, with all the brightness, and the shrieking voices, and the damned scratchy blankets!

He opened an eye a fraction and hissed, "You may be demons, but I can still kill you!"

The voices stopped for a second, and he heard a familiar silky drawl. "As nice as that compliment was, my Lord, it pains me to inform you that you are, in fact, not dead."

Voldemort shot up out of the bed, and grabbed Lucius by the collar of his robe. "Where is he?" he asked quietly, dangerously.

Lucius gulped, and pity flickered in his eyes. He pointed wordlessly, and Voldemort followed the pale, elegant finger.

Potter laid in a white bed that swamped him, his pale flesh almost blending in with the sheets. His hair was lank, and his cheekbones were prominent. Voldemort held onto the collar like a lifeline, and questioned, "Is he– is he–"

Severus' weak voice answered, "He's alive, my Lord. Barely, but alive nonetheless."

Voldemort sighed in relief, and faded into unconsciousness.

oOo

_A Week Later…_

Voldemort sat quietly at Potter's bedside, _daring_ his eyelids to try and close on him. He barely noticed as Severus came up beside him, and murmured, "Drink this, m'Lord."

He snapped, "Go away, Severus. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Severus snorted. "Busy is a relative term, my Lord. If you drink this, it will help you stay awake and leer at Potter's unconscious body longer."

Voldemort whirled around, and downed the potion quickly. He turned around, and frowned slightly. Wormwood. Wasn't that used in the Draught of Living Death?

He tried to face Severus, but the world spun too quickly for him. "Sev'rus," he croaked. "You…lied…to me…"

Severus chuckled, and caught him as he fell in slow motion off the chair. As Voldemort passed out, he heard a faint voice, "I learned from the best…my Lord."

oOo

He rolled over lazily, grumbling slightly as his nose was squished by a pillow. Damn pillows, always on his nose where they weren't wanted–

He froze. Pillows on his…nose?

He tried to jump from his bed, and cursed as he got tangled in the coverlet. Finally free, he ran to the mirror where he–

Where he had a nose. Ears. Full lips. Unslitted eyes. Great arse.

Taking a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his (shapely) nose, and bellowed, "_SEVERUS!"_

oOo

_Another Week Later…_

He stared at the deathly pale teenager, and awkwardly shifted his feet. Sighing, he finally sat in the chair, and attempted to come up with something to talk about. "Well, Potter…here I am, fully restored to my height of attractiveness, and you aren't even awake to see it. What good does that do, I ask you?"

The boy didn't answer. Voldemort studied the barely moving chest, and glanced at the sheen of sweat covering Potter's upper half.

He sighed again, and glanced around inconspicuously. He saw no one, and sneakily took Potter's clammy hand into his own. Stroking it slightly, he whispered, "Let me tell you a story…Harry."

oOo

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Remus who lived happily with his mother and father and their cute little dog and their adorable tiny Kneazle and their–

To hell with that. I'm telling this story my way, and you can live with it.

There was this wizard-child who lived with his mum and dad happily, until he was bitten by a werewolf. His mum killed herself shortly after his first full moon, and his father went slightly mad. But that's beside the point.

Anyway, he was wretched and poor, and he went to Hogwarts when he was eleven.

Coincidentally, he was still wretched and poor.

But he was so fucking optimistic and happy about life that people couldn't help but love him or hate him.

He was Sorted into Gryffindor, and settled into his dorm with three other boys: James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.

James and Peter considered Remus beneath them, as a stupid half-blood, and Sirius…well, Sirius wasn't really around until later in the story. He didn't sleep in their dorm room, he didn't associate with James or Peter, and no one really knew where he went, or who he was friends with.

Only one thing was clear: Sirius Black was the Prince of Hogwarts. He was strikingly handsome, gallant, intelligent, and humourous. Needless to say, everyone wanted him, his fame, his fortune.

Also needless to say, no one wanted Remus. Except for another outcast like him, Remus had no one. James and Peter picked on him constantly, and forced him to clean their dorm, do their homework, and sneak out after curfew to get them snacks. Once James started dated Lily Evans, she treated him the same way the other two did.

His only friend was Severus Snape, a half-blood Slytherin with a talent for Potions and an inability to realise his place. They got along quite well in the rare moments when Remus could go hide in the library, or the lavatory, or anywhere James or Peter wouldn't go.

Remus lived the harsh lifestyle of a servant for his first six years at Hogwarts, and probably would've gone living like a slave, if not for the Yule Ball.

Everyone and their mother were squealing about it; the first Yule Ball in a hundred years at Hogwarts. And it wasn't just any Yule Ball. It was a _masquerade _Yule Ball. Naturally, Lily and James were going together. Peter hadn't managed to frighten anyone into going with him, and Sirius was mysterious as always.

Remus wasn't going. Not that he wanted to, anyway. He would be much too busy beforehand making James', Lily's, and Peter's dress robes, and then he'd have to do their Charms essays before the night was out. Yes, he was quite busy, and couldn't waste time on a dance.

Severus didn't see it that way. He didn't think Remus should have to do his stupid dormmates' homework, or chores, or serve their ugly little girlfriends. But Remus always shrugged off Severus' anger, smiled slightly, and said he didn't mind.

Severus minded. He minded a lot. Which was why he was knocking determinedly on the Fat Lady's Portrait at seven' o'clock until someone decided to let him in.

A weary looking Remus finally let him in, and asked tiredly, "Why aren't you at the dance, Sev? I thought Narcissa finally gave in, and was letting you take her."

Severus pushed past him, and strode towards Remus' room. "Narcissa knows that my best friend comes first, and she knows that you need me a hell of a lot more than she does. Now, come in here, and put on your fucking dress robe."

Remus followed him dazedly. "Sev, you know I'm not going to the dance; I have to write all those Charms essays, and clean the room, and make the beds, and–"

Severus angrily waved his wand, and three Charms essays replicated themselves, the room was sparklingly clean, and each bed cover was tucked down, ready for a sleepy body.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

Remus sighed heavily, and held out a hand for the bundle of fabric. He grumbled on his way into the loo, "I'll go, but I'm leaving at midnight. I have classes tomorrow."

Severus called merrily after him, "Of course, my studious little friend! Classes are so much more important than the first night of social interaction you've ever had."

Remus stuck his head out from behind the door, and smiled sweetly. "Exactly."

Severus groaned.

oOo

Remus checked the strands nervously at the back of his head, making sure the mask was still securely in place. Severus swatted at his hand, and Narcissa gently straightened his robe. She said reassuringly, "You look very handsome, Remus. I insist you go out there and have a wonderful time."

He smiled weakly, and replied, "Who am I to deny a lovely witch her happiness?"

He took a deep breath, glanced longingly at the staircase leading to the staircase, and walked into the Great Hall.

It felt like everyone turned and looked at him at once. He could've even sworn the music faltered.

He looked over his dark blue robes anxiously; they still looked alright to him. He couldn't quite understand why Severus had sucked in his breath sharply when he had first seen him, or why he had turned away muttering, "If only I swung that way…"

Oh, well. Remus straightened his shoulders, and walked boldly to the nearest table, where he sat quickly, and tried to stop the tremors in his legs.

Immediately, he was swarmed by squealing witches in overly-revealing robes, and when they were politely refused, virile males surrounded him hopefully, lustfully.

Peter sat a few centimetres away, his hand inching up Remus' thigh as he leered creepily. "How 'bout you and me take a stroll outside, sexy? I could show you an evening you'd never forget…"

The hand squeezed tighter, and Remus shied away from the blatant crassness. Exasperated, he reached for his wand, when a warm hand settled on his shoulder.

A strong voice from behind him said, "Sorry I'm late. My shoes were the wrong size."

Peter gasped, and he hurriedly removed his hand, squeaking, "So sorry! I didn't know he was yours!"

Remus was almost afraid to turn around. He felt the person behind him bend down, and whisper in his ear, "Care to dance?"

He looked, and felt faint. Only one person had eyes so grey and deep that people had claimed to drown in them.

Somehow, when he came to his senses, he was on the dance floor, being gently held by Sirius Black. A serious Sirius Black who was unobtrusively scrutinising him.

A velvety timbre made him shiver. "I don't believe I've ever seen you before."

Remus corrected him shyly. "You've seen me before; you've just never had a conversation with me."

Sirius smiled. "I plan to rectify that mistake as soon as possible."

oOo

Four hours later, Remus knew without a doubt that he was in love. Sirius Black was, for lack of a better word, a Prince. He was perfect, charming, clever, an excellent dancer, and smelled so good that Remus wanted to howl at the moon in the middle of the Great Hall. So it was no surprise when Sirius asked him if he wanted to take a walk that he readily agreed.

With Moony humming in his veins and the waxing gibbous moon in the night sky, it was no surprise when Remus pushed Sirius against a tree and snogged the life out of him.

It wasn't a gentle kiss; Remus let them both know who was in control. He snarled, nipped, bit until Sirius bled, and then let off, lapping apologetically at Sirius's blood.

He pulled back at little, and looked hesitantly into Sirius's dazed grey gaze. Sirius said breathlessly, "I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me sometime, but now I'm not going to bother asking."

Remus drew away, the wolf in him whimpering in rejection, but Sirius caught his hand, and smiled. "I'm not asking; I'm telling you. We're going to Hogsmeade together."

He caught his breath, but could smell nothing but arousal and truth surrounding Sirius. Pressing his lips softly against Sirius's mouth, he showed his eager acceptance of the idea. Entwining their fingers, he lightly pushed Sirius more against the tree, and sighed in contentment as Sirius set about making his own mark on Remus' neck.

A bell tolled, and the enchantment that Sirius and the moonlight had been weaving was abruptly undone. It was midnight. Too late.

He shoved away from a confused Sirius, who tried to stop him. A barely there pressure of lips, and he broke free, not noticing as his wand slipped out of his pocket. Sirius cried after him to wait, but somehow Remus' tears affected his hearing as well as his vision.

A coldly furious Severus waited for him at the Portrait Hole. He said menacingly, "Was it fun for you before you ran away from the best thing that ever happened to you?"

Remus stared at the floor numbly. "He's the Prince, Severus. I'm just Remus. It never would've worked. Thank you for tonight, but I'm really tired. Good night, Sev. I hope you and Narcissa had a lovely time."

He slipped through the entrance, and Severus bashed his fist into the wall. It didn't help relieve the anger he felt.

oOo

Sirius Black stared blearily at the wall in History of Magic. The only person who looked as much like shite as he did was the teen two people down from him, Lupin something-or-other. He sighed heavily, and rested his head in his chin. Last night had been the best night of his life.

And the worst, he thought bitterly. He fingered the wand that he had slept with and cried next to. The boy with the expressive brown eyes owned it. Eyes like he had never seen before, and didn't think he could live without.

A surge of anger passed through him; he didn't know why the boy had run away from him, but he'd be damned if he didn't try to find out.

Shoving abruptly away from his desk, he stood on top of it swiftly. Everyone turned around to gape at him. Binns carried on teaching serenely.

He said loudly, "This wand belongs to the boy I'm in love with. Does anyone know who it belongs to?"

oOo

The classroom exploded as every boy in the class tried to Vanish their own wand, and claim the one in Black's hand as their own. Severus watched as Remus' eyes widened with hope, and as Remus turned away from the clamor, clenching his fist slightly.

Severus smiled slightly, and silently begged Remus to forgive him for what he was about to do. He said loudly, "Hey, Remus. Isn't that your wand? It went missing last night, didn't it? Around midnight?"

Remus looked at him frantically as the entire classroom stared first at the wand, then at Remus. Severus shrugged apologetically.

Remus ran from the room.

Sirius Black was right behind him.

oOo

Remus ran like a wounded animal into the Forbidden Forest. How could Severus betray him like that? They were best friends! Now everyone knew, and Sirius would make fun of him, and never looked at him with that dazed grey gaze again.

He sank down at the base of a tree. His moment of happiness was over, and he would spend the rest of his life repenting for it.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he tensed, but didn't look up.

A strong but shaky voice spoke. "I believe this is yours."

He peered out from under his lashes. Sirius Black stood there, holding out his wand hesitantly. Remus couldn't see the loathing or sneering from here, but that was just because he was too far away.

He buried his head in his arms, and said, "Just…leave it there."

Sirius growled, and he braced himself for the hatred that would spew from Sirius's mouth.

"Are you utterly mad? Do you think I'm going to just _leave it_ after I've found out who you are? Do you think I'm just going to walk away from this? If you do, then you're a lot more asinine than I thought you were."

Remus looked up, shocked. Sirius glared fiercely at him, and he panted heavily. Remus muttered, "But you know who I am now. You don't have to pretend you like me."

Sirius let out all of his breath in a whoosh, and stared at Remus. He came and slumped next to Remus on the ground. He asked quietly, "Do you think it matters to me that you're poor, or that you're a werewolf? Honestly, I could care less if you were a troll. You'd be my troll, and that'd be all that mattered. Do you understand?"

Remus gazed at Sirius in disbelief. "Are you saying that…you want me?" he asked slowly.

Sirius huffed in annoyance, and grabbed Remus' hand. He pressed against the impressive bulge in his robes, and uttered lowly, "If this doesn't tell you that I want you, then nothing will."

Remus stared at his hand, stared at the bulge, and inhaled deeply. He smelt the same sweet combination as last night, arousal and truth.

He hesitantly laid his head on Sirius's shoulder, and looked out at the castle.

Sirius ran his fingers through Remus' hair gently, and they watched the gibbous moon rise together.

oOo

Voldemort stared at his hand entwined with another pale one. It was hopeless; he had been sitting here telling Potter stories for the past two weeks, and nothing had happened. He would have to give up. He closed his eyes in despair.

A throat was cleared weakly. "Am I Remus, or Sirius?"

He whipped his head up, and stared disbelievingly. Potter was lying in front of him, sickly as ever, but _awake._

It was a miracle. He said nothing, just tightened the hold on Potter's hand. Potter smiled, and said in awe, "You have a nose, Tom."

Voldemort made a sound that could have been interpreted as a laugh. "Yes, Potter. I have a nose."

Obligingly, he moved his face closer so that Potter could trace his nose with a wondering finger.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Well?"

Potter whispered simply, "It's beautiful, Tom."

He turned his face away sharply, trying to convince himself that he was _not_ blushing.

His hand was caressed softly, and Potter sighed happily. "I missed you, y'know."

Voldemort snorted. "It was less stressful without you around."

Potter smiled. "I knew you missed me, too. Now, come lay with me; my arm's getting tired."

Voldemort protested, "You just woke up, Potter! You need rest!"

Potter grinned. "You know what I really need? To tell you a story. Now come here, or I'll be forced to try and sit up."

He went, grumbling about manipulative little brats. Potter immediately rolled over to rest his head on his chest, and Voldemort tried to ignore the way his arm went automatically around the teen's waist.

Potter settled in, and spoke quietly. "A long time ago…"

oOo

It was said that there was a fearsome dragon that roamed the land and selectively devoured its inhabitants. The kingdom lived in terror of the enormous beast, for it was said that it could appear out of nowhere. The king of the land was outraged. He had sent his twenty best knights to slay the creature. They had all rode away confidently, but only their heads had triumphantly returned.

In desperation, he summoned the wicked sorceress from the Forest of Death. (1) She curtsied in front of him, her single eye roving covetously over the throne.

"Your Majesty, it is the highest honor to serve you in any way," she simpered.

"I know, witch," he said impatiently. "But there is no time for your idle flattery. I command you to use your dark magic to find a way to destroy this monster."

Her eyes widened dramatically. "Monster, Majesty? I'm afraid I don't know what you're speaking of."

He backhanded her, sending her tumbling to the floor. "The dragon, you fool!"

A bright red handprint was emblazoned on her wizened cheek. Looking away from the king, her gaze hardened with loathing. She spoke softly, "To rid this land of the reign of death, a sacrifice must be made."

The king leaned forward impatiently. "Yes?" he asked. "What is it?"

She turned to face him, her eyes swirling with dark delight. "A virgin sacrifice of royal blood, Majesty."

He reeled back in shock. "But I only have one child…" he murmured.

She smiled sharply. "Your son, Sire. I know. And if I may say, Majesty, it is _so_ touching to see loyalty to family over loyalty to country. Very refreshing nowadays."

He straightened, and looked hatefully at her "I never said that, witch. I am the King; never doubt my fealty. Begone, and take your life as payment."

Shining white teeth appeared. "Of course, Sire. I am ever so grateful. Have a lovely day!" She hobbled quickly out of the room.

He slumped back into his chair, and rubbed worriedly at his forehead. How was he supposed to tell his only heir that his beloved father was sending him to his death?

At that moment, a dark blur burst into the room and hastily kneed in front of him. Green eyes stared up happily at him. "Father! I beat Remus in our match!"

King James looked tenderly at his son. "I'm so proud of you, my little Prince." He passed his hand quickly over Harry's head, and left the room.

He would do it tonight.

oOo

Harry moved restlessly in his sleep. Visions of red eyes and rivers of blood tormented him. A male scream echoed in his head, and he bolted upright.

He looked around wildly, night terror soaking his shirt.

There was no one there. He relaxed slowly. It was only a nightmare. He was safe. His father would never let anything happen to him.

A rough cloth was shoved into his mouth, and something blunt hit him on the back of the head.

His world went black.

oOo

James smothered a flash of regret as he watched his bound son's body being rolled into the cave where the dragon was rumoured to live.

It was for the greater good.

oOo

A cool cloth was gently pressed to his forehead. Harry groaned; he had a killer headache. It felt like someone had clubbed him.

"That's probably because someone did," an amused voice said.

Harry gasped, and opened his eyes quickly. A smiling, concerned face appeared in his vision. By George, he was handsome. He looked like the image of Gabriel in their cathedral, except for the disconcerting red eyes. They were off-putting, yet oddly alluring.

Harry blushed, and turned away. It was a sin to think such things about a man.

"Do you feel better?" the man asked anxiously. Harry noted in surprise that his headache was gone. He nodded, and the man said, "Good. I put some healing salve on the cloth, but I wasn't sure if it would work."

Harry drew in a breath sharply, and scrambled away from the man. "Healing salve? That's dark magic! Get thee behind me, Satan!" he snarled. (2)

To his astonishment, the man merely snorted. "I never understood why Muggles feel the need to quote Scripture in everyday conversation."

The man reached for him, and Harry shrank away. The man's face darkened. "You don't know the meaning of Dark magic, boy. I hope you never will."

The man turned away, and called coldly over his shoulder, "There is food and drink on the table. You may partake of it if you wish."

Harry watched the man's back vanish through the door. He felt a twinge of regret, and an even stronger throb of longing.

oOo

The man gazed at the sleeping teenager; it was so much less painful than when he was awake.

It was very tempting to accept this delectable offering. He did have a penchant for dark hair and green eyes. But this couldn't distract him from his goals.

He smirked. No one said he couldn't have his Firewhiskey and drink it, too.

oOo

Potter snuggled into him, and murmured, "That's as good of a place to stop as any."

Voldemort felt something catch in his chest, as he looked down at the dark hair spread across his shoulder. At that moment, he vowed to dismember and gut anyone who had caused the teen the pain that had started this.

Potter's voice startled him out of his delicious fantasies; it was timid and small. "Just for tonight, Tom, would you mind–"

Voldemort muttered _Nox_ far too quickly, and tried to mask his eagerness. He said snarkily, "You'd best not snore, Potter."

Deep breathing was his only answer.

He sighed, and drifted off to sleep, unconsciously drawing Potter closer to him.

TO BE CONTINUED.

(1): The Forest of Death is mentioned in Naruto, Vol. 6 and 7.

(2): "Get thee behind me, Satan!" is taken from the King James version of the Bible, from Matthew 16:23.

A/N: That's a nice long update, yeah? ^-^ Sorry for the wait; but this is better than June, right?

Thank you for all your lovely reviews, Favorites, and Alerts!

**Present/Future Stories: **

1: Double Entendre:

"Is that a promise?" he all but purred, his grey eyes freezing Harry in place. Harry stuttered, "A t-threat." Lucius/Harry slash.

2: Wizard Rock:

Strands of poorly-played music appeared with a disgustingly poppy beat. Draco sneered, and settled back to have a good laugh. Stupid Weasels. Song!fic, slight crack.

3: I'll be posting another Lucius/Harry sometime in the future.

4: I have a Draco/Hermione song!fic that will be posted sometime in early May.

5: If Wishes Were Bowtruckles is still ongoing. Feel free to leave me a pairing/prompt!


	6. History and The Dragon and The Prince

Scheherazade

_That One Story about a Dragon and a Princes– Er, Prince- Part Two, and _

Harry rolled over slowly, and groped for Voldemort. His hand met only rumpled linens. Footsteps approached the bed, and he grumbled, "Tom, you'd best have a good reason for leaving me all alone here. It's fucking freezing."

He was handed his glasses, and he put them on, saying playfully, "Really, Tom. I've just overcome some terrible ordeal, and you abandon me in my time of nee–"

He froze. Long black hair encroached on his vision. Pale skin filled his mind. Dark eyes swallowed him whole.

His wand tip dug into her neck and he hissed, "We meet again, _traitor_."

oOo

Voldemort walked down the hall relatively quickly. By no means was he _hurrying_ back to Potter's side. He merely felt the need for a bit of brisk exercise. After all, he had been sitting next to Avery for all but two hours, and he swore the man could make even murder and torture boring. Needless to say, going over expenses with him had been absolute _hell_.

Near reaching the end of the hallway, he heard Potter mumble sleepily, "Tom, you'd best have a good reason for leaving me all alone here. It's fucking freezing."

Voldemort smirked. The little brat had missed him that much, eh? He quickened his step as Potter said teasingly, "Really, Tom. I've just overcome some terrible ordeal, and you abandon me in my time of nee–"

He reached the doorway just in time to see Potter jab his wand into the neck of one of his most faithful Death Eaters.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

oOo

Bellatrix Lestrange thought that her ten-plus years in Azkaban had prepared for basically everything.

Obviously, she was completely wrong, for she was totally shocked by the teenager snarling in her face. She had entered in the room to make sure that Potter's fever had gone down, and had somehow aroused a monster.

The sensible thing to do would've been to blubberingly apologise for killing Sirius, but ten-plus years in Azkaban hadn't done much for her common sense, either.

"I'm the traitor? I could say the same thing to you, _Harry_. What's the poor widdle defender of Light doing in the middle of the snakes' den?"

oOo

Bellatrix was an idiot, he decided. Only an idiot or a Gryffindor would insult someone holding a wand to their jugular.

Voldemort was debating whether to intervene, when Bellatrix shifted a bit to her right. He caught a glimpse of Potter's eyes, and stilled immediately. Someone with those eyes should not be interrupted, he thought firmly.

And if Bellatrix was stupid enough to get herself killed, then she wasn't as much of a loss as he had originally thought.

oOo

Bellatrix stared into those crazed eyes, half-maddened with anger and pain. Potter grabbed her collar and pulled her roughly forward. The wand in her neck was really becoming rather uncomfortable.

Potter growled, "You have the nerve to ask me what I'm doing here? You sent me here, you treacherous little bitch, and now you're going to pay with your life."

She started to retort, and then paused, confused. "What are you talking about, Potter? I may have killed your godfather and ruined your entire life, but I never brought you here."

He peered closely at her, and she stared boldly back. His gaze cleared slightly, and his grip on her robe loosened. "Cho?" he whispered.

She scoffed and pushed his wand away. "Stupid little boy. I'm not your girlfriend."

Potter fell back on the bed and mumbled, "If you were, I would've killed you."

Bellatrix's brow creased, and she put a hand on Potter's forehead. He was burning up. She grumbled, "I'm going to take it as a sign of your extremely high temperature that you dared compare me to some measly fifteen-year-old."

Potter gave a sickly smile. "She's seventeen."

She Conjured a cool cloth, placed it on his forehead, and then grudgingly sat down beside the bed. "You might as well tell me why you want to kill your girlfriend; I'm supposed to be your keeper for today."

oOo

Out in the hall, Voldemort created a chair and tried to remember why the name Cho seemed familiar.

oOo

I started dating Cho Chang in my Fifth Year. I had a crush on her in my Fourth Year, but she was dating Cedric Diggory and– Well, we kissed before Yule, I took her to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day, and then we just kind of became a couple. I never asked her to be my girlfriend; people just…assumed.

She didn't come with me to the Department of Mysteries, which you probably already know. She didn't force me to let her go like the others did; anyway, I didn't trust her as much as the others. But she was there for me after Sirius died (I'm still angry at you for that, by the way), so we got closer. She came to see me a couple of times at the Dursleys.

We got on the Hogwarts Express at the start of this year, and at this point, I did trust Cho, probably more than Ron and Ginny combined. We were sitting by the lake on the second day of school, holding hands and talking about the Department of Mysteries. It was my first time really opening up about it, and she was empathetic. I said in frustration, "_Maybe I should just not fight Voldemort anymore. Maybe that way, no one else I care about will die._"

She looked at me, horrified, and said, "_Harry! You can't really mean that!_"

I stared out at the lake, and said, "_Maybe I do._"

I soon forgot about that conversation, but I learned later on that she remembered it, a little too well.

As September went on, though, she started acting strange. Actually, most of my friends were acting weirdly: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Cho.

I would see them all huddled around a table in the library, intensely discussing something, but they would all scatter every time I came near them.

They started doing unusual things: Cho took my measurements like Ollivander did before my First Year, Ron was scuttling around at nighttime like a bloody errand boy, Hermione always had her nose in the same book, and Ginny kept trying to make me angry.

That was the most peculiar thing: Ginny kept reminding me of when Sirius died and whispering things like, "_Don't you just wish that Voldemort was dead for what he did?_"

And, I mean, I did, but it wasn't like I thought _I _could kill him, or something. I was just sixteen. Hell, I'm _still_ sixteen. Anyway, she kept pressuring me to have all these murderous feelings and she kept trying to make me say that I would kill Voldemort.

Finally, I snapped, and screamed at her, "_There's no way in hell that I'm killing Voldemort!_"

I wasn't exactly sure if I meant it, but the thought of being neutral had been in the back of my mind since Third Year.

She looked at me with hard, hateful eyes, and said, "_I see. Then the preparations will not go to waste_."

I asked Cho what she was talking about, but Cho just laughed, and told me that Ginny was jealous of our relationship. It made sense to me; Ginny had liked me since her First Year.

The Halloween Ball was coming up, and I asked Cho to go with me. She said yes, but she made an odd request of me. _"Harry, I want you to wear these robes. I made them especially for you. They match my robes._"

I had always thought that girls knew more about fashion than I did, but the robes that Cho made for me were _ugly_. They were this scratchy velvety fabric that was dyed crimson, and there were all these strange Runes on them. I had never taken Runes, so I had no idea what they meant, but I did know one thing: Cho was going to look very bizarre if her outfit matched mine.

The night of the Ball came, and I walked up the stairway to the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower to get Cho. We had agreed to meet there at eight o'clock, and she didn't show up on time. I knew that girls always took longer to get dressed than they said they would, but by the time nine rolled around, I began to get worried.

I turned to the knocker, and it said, "_What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon and three at night?_"

I never got the chance to answer, for a "_Petrificus Totalus_" hit me in the back. I fell down the stairs and landed at the bottom with my eyes still open. Footsteps pounded down the steps, and a voice hissed, "_You idiot! You could've ruined it all with this!"_

The owner of the voice came into my sight. It was Cho. Her eyes widened as she realised that I was still conscious. She whipped her wand out, and screeched, "_Stupefy!_"

When I awoke, I was chained to the stone floor in a position such that my limbs and head formed a five-pointed star. I was no longer under a full Body Bind, and I twisted my head to the side to find Ginny drawing a circle around my body with a piece of chalk.

"_Gin?_" I asked nervously, "_What are you doing?_"

She smiled at me, and said gently, "_What we never would have had to do if you were the true hero everyone thinks you are._"

I heard Ron and Cho chanting something in the background, and I hurriedly turned my head to see a mass of purple and black magic rush towards me.

Then next thing I knew, I was chained to a wall in someone's dungeon. I was awake for enough time before Voldemort found me to reevaluate my priorities in life. I figured out two things: one, I no longer wanted to fight Voldemort, and two, I wanted to kill Cho Chang more than I had ever wanted anything.

oOo

Potter sighed. "I don't much need a Madam Pomfrey anymore; I think my fever's gone down. You can go now. Just don't tell Tom that I gave you story-time, too."

Bellatrix strolled thoughtfully out of the room, not even noticing her Lord camped outside the doorway. Potter was a bit different than she had expected him to be. More different, more…_vicious_. She grinned suddenly. Vicious was good.

oOo

Voldemort waited a couple minutes outside the room, and then came slowly in. Potter was laying flat on the bed, looking pale and wan.

He said weakly, "I was quite put out with you earlier, but now I find I don't have the energy to be angry."

Voldemort sat on the edge of the bed. "Probably a side effect of your body fighting off a fever."

Potter snorted. "Or perhaps I just can't stay mad at you. Bring me a glass of water, Tom, and I'll continue the story."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

Potter gave him an icy glare. "Try and stop me."

oOo

Harry snuggled into the scratchy pillow. That was unusual; his pillows were normally covered in the finest silk. He would have to speak to the maid about that.

A voice spoke to him softly, "You didn't eat or drink, then? Do I repulse you that much that you won't have anything to do with me?"

Harry felt he had made the voice sad. Hurriedly, to reassure it, he mumbled, "Not…repulsive…'s to attractive…"

A gentle tugging sensation occurred in his mind. A hand smoothed over his hair, and the voice soothed him. "Rest now, my little Prince…"

Harry drifted into slumber with the faint sensation of cold lips on his forehead.

oOo

Harry wandered out of the room nervously. It was funny; he had woken up on a burlap sack, and yet, he couldn't remember getting a better night of sleep.

He saw the man bent over some sort of large kettle. His eyes traced over a strong back, muscular arms, and sinfully tight trousers.

The man's amused voice rang out. "Does this form meet your approval, my little Prince?"

Harry asked hesitantly, "How did you find out that I was the Prince?"

The man looked over his shoulder, and his crimson eyes sparkled pleasingly. "I used my Dark magic to pull it from your pretty little head," he teased.

Harry flushed, and cleared his throat. "About that…I must beg your forgiveness for grievously insulting you. You are my host, and you graciously took care of me in my time of need, so I shall never slight you again, even if you do dabble in sinful practices."

The man laughed. "Don't make promises you can't keep. I have no doubt that I will offend you sometime in the future, so feel free to insult me then. I will accept your apology, but it was not necessary. I had already forgiven you."

Harry lifted his head and smiled tentatively at him. "Thank you, sir."

The man said, "You may call me Marvolo, my little Prince."

Harry replied, "My name is Harry, y'know."

Marvolo smirked. "But 'my little Prince' is so much more entertaining."

Harry's stomach suddenly growled, and they both jumped. Marvolo grinned. "Perhaps now you will consent to share a meal with me?"

Embarrassed, he nodded, and Marvolo waved a stick over the large kettle. Its contents stopped moving, and Marvolo walked to the door. He raised an eyebrow. "Shall we?"

Harry grinned. "Let's."

oOo

Harry swallowed his last mouthful of bread and cheese, and washed it down with the strangely delicious drink Marvolo called "Butterbeer." The man in question was currently gazing at him with a ravenous look in his eye. Harry hoped that he hadn't eaten so much that Marvolo was still hungry.

"Well," Harry said awkwardly. "I am forever in debt to your hospitality, but I really must be going. My father is no doubt fraught with worry."

Marvolo's eyes darkened with sorrow and Harry looked at him in surprise. "Is something wrong?" Harry queried.

Marvolo sighed. "It was foolish of me to think you wouldn't ask. I will tell you, if you agree to one thing."

Harry nodded bemusedly.

Marvolo continued, "Promise me that you will remember that I have always told you the truth and will continue to do so."

Harry acquiesced, and Marvolo took a deep breath.

"Your father is responsible for you being here."

oOo

Harry gaped and shook his head. "Pardon me; I though you just said my father was responsible for this."

Marvolo looked sadly at him. "I did."

Harry said firmly. "I believe you are mistaken. Why would my father beat me up and leave me with some stranger? It serves no purpose, and leaves him short of a much needed heir."

Marvolo sighed heavily. "Your father asked a witch how to stop the dragon in this land. She told him he had to make a virgin sacrifice of royal blood to the dragon. And here you are."

Harry laughed derisively. "Oh, that's believable. So where's your dragon, then? All I see here is you and me–"

Marvolo wearily stood up from the table. "Come with me."

Harry numbly followed him to a large cavern. How was this possible? He couldn't even believe that his father would sacrifice him for the good of the country, so to believe that Marvolo was a dragon? That was asinine.

Marvolo strode to the middle of the grotto, and called to him, "Whatever you do, don't look at my eyes."

Marvolo's face was set in concentration and he began to grow.

Harry stumbled back until he hit the wall. His heart pounded, and he felt like he was about to pass out.

What _was_ that?

oOo

Voldemort waited. And waited. Finally, he said, exasperated, "Well? What was it?"

Potter didn't answer. He looked over, and found Potter gently snoring against his pillow. Voldemort sighed, and moved to adjust Potter's linens.

A vice-like grip clamped onto his arm, and he glanced at Potter, who was still fast asleep. He tried to move away, but Potter's hand just held on tighter. He grumbled a bit, just for show, and inched under the coverlet with Potter. Only because he needed a bit of rest, too. He could've broken Potter's hold if he really wanted to.

oOo

Lucius walked in the room. "My Lord, I–"

He stopped short, glad that Narcissa was not there to see the Dark Lord and Potter cuddled together. He knew she would've been squealing about how '_utterly adorable they were together._'

He backed slowly out the doorway, and turned around to go back the way he had come. He grinned suddenly; he couldn't wait until Severus saw this memory.

TO BE CONTINUED.

A/N: It's still early June, yeah? ^-^ I apologize greatly for the wait, but I haven't got a computer at the moment. Damn viruses. My new one should be coming in tomorrow, but the next update probably won't be until July, because –cheers– I'm going to New York City in a week for the first time!

Until then, I should be posting:

-A Draco/Hermione one-shot sometime in the next week

-Possibly another chapter of The Courting of Angau (but that's extremely doubtful)

-Some chapters for If Wishes Were Bowtruckles, my Slytherin drabble collection. I would like to post more chapters, but I've only got three more prompts/pairings. Hint. Hint. :]


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